Variation on the Case of the Hesitant Hostess
by Elena George
Summary: A short snippet of "what if" when Perry and Della go snooping in Las Vegas. Epilogue added.
1. Variation on TCOT Hesistant Hostess

The shot rang out and Della's heart stopped for just a split second

Variation on the Case of the Hesitant Hostess

A/N: What if Biggs had fired upon Perry instead of just taking the postcard and going back to LA?

The shot rang out and Della's heart stopped for just a split second. She heard the sickening thunk of Perry's body hitting the floor then the slam of the door as Biggs left the room. Tears splattered down her face as she raced to Perry from behind the door where she had been hidden. As soon as she was close enough to see that he was still breathing, her confidence began to return. Carefully, she rolled him over hearing the vaguest of gurgling sounds.

"Perry!"

He was gasping for air, "Della, get a towel. Quickly!"

She grabbed a towel and returned.

"Put it on the wound and press as hard as you can," he was still panting. "Control the bleeding with pressure."

She tore frantically at his coat, jacket, and shirt. The towel was folded and placed directly atop the wound. Della applied as much of her weight as she dared.

"What next, Perry?"

His face was becoming ashen with sweat beads across his brow.

"Cigarette," he instructed. "Shrinks the blood vessels."

She freed one hand and pawed through his pocket. She lit one and passed it to Mason, who puffed cautiously on it. She returned both hands to the towel, which was beginning to turn to a deep red colour.

"Good girl, Della. You'd have made a good Army medic," he tried to chuckle.

"Perry, this is no time…" Della began but was cut off by a wave of his hand.

"Della, I love you. I've loved you for years," he began.

"Perry…"

"Sh. Della, I need to tell you this," he continued. He drew a little more on the cigarette, and then began again, "I should have married you years ago. But I was too afraid of losing you at the office if you decided to go domestic on me."

Della shook her head, her eyes were again filled with heavy tears, "Perry, no…"

"Yes, Della. I was selfish in the extreme. Always have been when it comes to you," he stopped to pant a little more. "Before we go back to Los Angles, I want to make that right. I want to marry you, here, now."

Della sniffled, "Perry, you know how I feel about you. I have loved you forever."

"Good, then it's settled," he grunted.

Della lifted her hands to stroke his face, causing him to moan. She whispered, "Yes. It's settled."

"Pressure."

The manager came bursting through the door, "I heard a shot!"

"Get an ambulance!" shouted Della in his direction. "He's been shot!"

Somewhere along the way to the hospital, Perry lost consciousness. Della turned loose of his hand only once they arrived at the Emergency Room door. One of the nurses, a gentle grey-haired lady, promised to let her know as things developed. For now, however, she was relegated to the waiting area – all alone. When Della stopped heaving, she asked directions to the restroom where she tidied herself up some. Finally, once she stopped shaking, she steeled herself for the call she must make.

Della picked up the receiver and dialed the number, "Person-to-person for Paul Drake. This is Della Street."

"Hi Beautiful!" Paul's chipper greeting sounded across the distance.

"Perry's been shot. I need you here," Della said flatly.

"Which hospital?"

"Memorial."

"I'm on my way. I'll take a charter out and be there in a few short hours," Paul promised. "How bad is it, Della?"

She heaved a sigh, "Don't know. He passed out on the way here, presumably from the blood loss."

"Okay. Hang in there, Della. I'm leaving for the charter right now. I'll see you sooner than you can imagine," Paul reassured his friend. "Perry's tough, Della, I don't need to tell you that. He made it through D-Day and the Battle of the Bulge, and he can get through this."

Della's head nodded, "Thanks, Paul."

The connection was broken, and Della returned to the waiting area. Her emotions spent, she tried to hide in a corner away from everything. The smells and sounds of a big city emergency department chased her down and haunted her, nonetheless.

The nurse came to Della with a cup of coffee, "Honey, you look like you could use this."

Della looked up and smiled, "Thanks."

"Your husband?"

Della's eyes filled with tears again, "Almost."

"They've taken him up to surgery – which is a good sign," the nurse offered.

Della nodded silently.

"You know you could wait up there as well as here? It's not as noisy there."

Della looked up hopefully, "Where?"

"If you go down this corridor and turn right, you'll see the elevators. Surgery is on the second floor," the nurse said.

"Thanks. I'm expecting our friend Paul Drake in a few hours. He's flying up from Los Angeles…"

The nurse smiled kindly, "Not to worry, honey, we'll redirect him. Now go on."

Hours later, Paul and Della sat waiting for Perry to awaken in his room. Perry was restless and muttering just under his breath. Two IVs hung from poles – one was blood, the other fluid. A chest tube extended to a small suction machine on one side of the bed. Then he grew quiet.

"Della?" Mason whispered in a hoarse, barely audible voice.

She scooted closer, "Perry!"

"Welcome back," came Paul's voice from the foot of the bed where he sat.

Perry's eyes opened a crack, "Don't cry Della; I'm fine. But I do have a splitting headache."

Della smiled through the tears, "Of course."

Perry shut his eyes again, "Glad you're here, Paul."

There was a hush in the room before Perry began again.

"Did somebody ask for a continuance?"

Paul laughed and Della smiled.

"Not yet, Counselor," Della finally got out as she wiped her tears off on his free hand.

"I think a week or so should do it," Perry opened both eyes again and smiled at her, his hand grazed her cheek.

Della and Paul shook their heads simultaneously.

In a few days Biggs had been picked up and returned to Nevada to face arraignment on "assault with intent to kill" charges. Lt Tragg had accompanied him and stopped in to see his best sparring partner.

"Well, Counselor, how is life on the wild side?" Tragg asked in his usual wry tone.

Perry smiled at him, "Tragg, so nice of you to come calling."

"Yes," he crooned. "I escorted Biggs back for his arraignment for assaulting you. Then I'll be taking him back to Los Angeles to complete testimony in our current trial."

"Why I'm touched, Lieutenant. Any of your underlings could have seen to it, but you came yourself."

"Mr. Burger couldn't believe it either. So I had to see for myself. The picture of the great Perry Mason flat on his back just…" he choked up.

He began again after clearing his throat, "Seriously, Perry, we are all glad that you'll be okay."

Mason nodded, "Thanks Lieutenant. And thank Hamilton for me, will you?"

After a week in hospital, the doctors deemed that he was well enough to return home by car. They did not want him flying since there was still some lingering damage to his lung where the bullet had nicked it. Della had packed up their things while Paul hired a car.

"We've got to make a couple of stops before heading back to Los Angeles," Perry told Paul.

"Okay, Perry, where to first?" Paul asked as he pulled away from the curb.

"Jewelry store," Perry directed. "The first one you come to will do fine," he commented as he squeezed Della's hand and smiled at her. He leaned closer to her, "I meant what I said, Della."

Della selected twin simple gold bands for them, "Perry, I don't need a big, fat diamond. These will do nicely."

Mason simply smiled at her. He had never loved anyone more than he loved Della. The wedding before the judge was equally understated.

Perry slept most of the way home; head nestled in Della's lap.

Paul puffed on a cigarette, "I always wondered when, or, if he'd ever nerve up and marry you, Della."

"What do you mean, Paul?" she queried.

"He's been in love with you for as long as I can think," Paul stated matter-of-factly. "I guess it took him a near death experience to finally figure it all out."

Della laughed softly and shook her head, "You've known that long? So why did you always flirt with me?"

"I was just hoping to jog him into acting," he replied. "Guess he did not really need my help after all."

"Mister PI!" she joked.

"I've also known that you've had eyes for no one other than Perry for as long as I can remember," Paul reflected. "What took _you_ so long!"

Della laughed again then sighed, "I guess I was waiting for him to figure it out."

"It takes some of us guys longer than others, you know."

"Mmm. You know what he said to me, Paul?" Della began. "He was afraid I'd go 'domestic' on him as he put it. Now I ask you – can you see _me_ 'domestic"?"

"Not in this lifetime. I guess Perry was just…you know, Della. I don't have to tell you, do I?" Paul fussed.

Della laughed and stroked her husband's head tenderly, "He looks so vulnerable like this, doesn't he?"

"Perry Mason is never vulnerable," Perry chimed in with a big grin on his face. "But, dearest wife, you can keep on doing what you're doing."

The car sang with their laughter.

A/N: Now you can go back to the courtroom scenes from the episode, only add a mental ring to each left hand of our favourite couple.


	2. Epilogue The Twins

The Twins

A/N: Three years later

Each of their sons was named after a grandfather – Andrew and Philip. Andrew was Perry's father's name while Della's father was Philip Street. Della always insisted their names were really "Surprise!" and "Oops!" They came as a complete surprise, for the Masons had not planned on having children. However, the twins made their way into the world forty weeks after their parents' very happy and energetic third anniversary.

The day had begun as every other day for Perry and Della. The alarm rang for Della Street first. She had always preceded Mr. Mason in the office by at least an hour most days. Marriage had not altered that schedule one bit. Della liked the quiet of that hour without the Chief. It assured her that she could get through the mail and a few last minute briefs and letters, all prepared for his signature. She wanted to remain Della Street as her professional persona while being perfectly content as Mrs. Perry Mason in her private and social life.

Perry also preferred the staggered schedule as well. He loved Della dearly, but he would never be a morning person even if he lived to be 150! He needed the peace of undisturbed "get up," "get shaved and showered," "get dressed" all by himself. He admitted it was wonderful that she always left him some coffee before she left for the office. It beat his former bachelor lifestyle. Alone, he could mentally prepare for the day ahead while he nursed his coffee, cigarette, and a sweet roll. It made little difference that two cars went to work after they married. It somehow just made sense to do it that way. A solid, working routine never needed to be changed they both believed.

Neither Della nor Perry was overly sentimental even when it came to their anniversary. It was just another excuse to go out and dance the night away. The wedding had merely served notice to the rest of the world that this pair really was a couple. For years they had worked so closely, that a deep intimacy already existed. They shared most of their waking hours long before they shared a bed and home. In most of the important ways, they had been married for years before they joined hands and bodies that day in Las Vegas. Perry had never forgotten Della's birthday nor she his. Their anniversary took a little more remembering and was thus affixed to the refrigerator door as a joint reminder to do extra loving things for the other.

Della began the day for Perry with fresh towels and scrubbed bathroom. There was no lingerie in sight and the seat was left "up." Next she left a full pot of coffee, a fresh Danish she'd picked up from the neighborhood bakery, and the newspaper. A daisy whimsically stood in a small vase on the breakfast table. Since she would not smile at him until he got to work, she thought it a pleasant stand-in. She loved Perry more than words and deeds could ever begin to tell.

Perry had planned for her to get to the office and find two-dozen red roses waiting for her. He wanted them delivered ten minutes before her usual arrival time. It gave enough time for the scent to penetrate her office without having the buds in full flower. Tucked in his coat pocket was a diamond and emerald necklace, which he planned to drape around her at dinner this evening. The anniversary seemed as good an excuse as any to lavish jewels upon his "jewel." He had secured dinner reservations at their favorite restaurant. Not only was the food delicious, but there also was an orchestra that played through the night, making the whole ambiance all the more delightful. The couple had enjoyed many an evening of dancing after dinner in the past, but their marriage moved it further up in the things they enjoyed doing together most. It was at least at the third most enjoyable activity.

Thus it was that they were both a "little tipsy" when they got home that night, or rather early that next morning. Perry had called a cab since he knew that neither was fit to drive home and a married Paul Drake was no longer available at odd hours of the night. Perry had nibbled on his wife's neck in the back seat of the taxi like a kid on a hot date after the prom. For her part, Della had the giggles all the way home, especially as she untied his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. Consequently, the usual precautions were ignored in the haste of removing clothes from the other and the slight fog of inebriation. Saturday afternoon arrived before there was even the first stirring from their bedroom.

Shoes were left at the door. Coats were half draped on the chair and half on the floor. Perry's suit jacket and tie were the next items observed in the clothing trail aimed more or less toward the bedroom. Della had peeled his jacket off, and dropped it arms inside out on the floor. The tie, untied in the taxi, was slipped out of his shirt and flung aimlessly through the air. Della loved to run her fingers through the hair on his chest almost as much as the hair on his head. He loved the way she kissed him there. He entangled his hands in her hair and brought her mouth up to his and lavished his affections on her sensual lips.

Her jacket was summarily discarded nearby in a similar wad. With wicked grins on their faces, Della pulled all the drapes shut as Perry dimmed the lights and turned on the stereo that he had set up before leaving for the office that morning. He had planned almost everything…well, almost everything.

The couch had served them nicely for about thirty minutes, with few more layers of clothes left behind in piles there. A shirtless Perry had retrieved an iced bottle of champagne. It met its final end in the bedroom an hour or so later. The Hi-Fi was now silent, having expended its stack of six records. The night ended with a gift of self to the Beloved. Those mutual gifts would make for a most interesting next 21 years in the Mason home!

By the following Friday, Della sensed that something was different. Parts of her body ached that had never known such discomfort in the past. When her cycled failed to cycle, she grew suspicious. She was not quite forty and pregnancy was not completely out of the question. Her doctor answered that soon enough. Perry learned quickly that arguing with a pregnant wife was not especially useful. Della had even less use for Perry's initial attempt at hovering and pampering. She was going to do all the things she'd always done until the arrival of their accidental guest. It was not until the fourth month that the doctor confirmed that Della was carrying twins. Paul found it amusing to watch Perry deal with this turn of events. His own son, Paul, Jr., was a fresh arrival of his own and had complicated life for his father and mother. Paul, Jr., had at least been planned.

Paul took Perry hunting and fishing more often in the second trimester. It was just easier on all three of the friends that way. Della alternated between excited about their children to angry that her life had been so disrupted by it all. When she was in that mood, Perry was summarily blamed for the "unexpected" pregnancy. He was also blamed for the loss of her figure and the swelling of her ankles and general misery in the third trimester. While Perry still loved her dearly, he had no idea of what to do. For her part, Della apologized profusely to Perry at least twice a week for acting like a shrew.

Della was at the office early in the morning when Andrew and Philip decided to make their grand entrance. Of course, it was a full half hour before their father had made it in. Gertie greeted Perry with the news that Della's water had broken, and Paul had rushed her to the hospital. Even though he had given up smoking while Della was pregnant, Perry felt the desperate need for nicotine on the way. He chain-smoked his way there and in the expectant fathers waiting area. As he smoked, he paced back and forth. Paul could only watch him with the understanding of an expectant father. Perry had been with him the night Paul, Jr., was born. Andrew came first a little after one in the afternoon. Philip trailed him by less than an hour. By the late evening, Della was in a room and Perry slept in the chair next to the bed. It was, as Paul put it, the last good sleep for the next year or so that either would get.


End file.
